


For The Brotherhood

by Militem (ava_militem)



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3, Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Angst, Arranged Marriage, F/F, F/M, Kissing, Night Terrors, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance, Teasing, Terminal Illnesses, Violence, accidental abuse, cremation, i cant pick a damn tense to save my life, sight
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-06-10 14:17:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15293352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ava_militem/pseuds/Militem
Summary: The untold and unrecorded story of Jessica and Jonathan Maxson.





	1. Our Way

A marriage of necessity was what she called it. Not of love, mutual benefit, or even respect, though loyalty was present. No, their marriage was to be simply one driven by the need to strengthen the most important bloodline of their chapter. Regardless, the words still stung, were just as bitter as when she first connected all the lineages and realized what her own work laid out.

“The Maxson’s require a strong child to carry on the Brotherhood’s legacy. My proposal is simply to reduce the recessive genes that are beginning to appear in the more predominant bloodlines. An individual originally from the wasteland can provide such variation. It’s simply a marriage to benefit the Maxson’s, and the Brotherhood, long-term.”

They were her own words, spoken of herself as if she were a toxin poured into a clear spring. Thought this spring was as tainted as any other in the wasteland from before the war. 

“So you proposition your own marriage to Joshua Maxson?” Head Paladin Vargas asks his words reflecting the disdain on his features.

“I am.” 

The man balks, “Outrageous, clearly a ploy to further her own position.”

With the hard work and long hours she’s poured into the Brotherhood, she’s half-convinced herself that she deserves a Maxson and Vargas’ scoffing remark score her armour. She was beaten into Brotherhood form, as one has to be. Those who don’t survive the yes'sirs and no ma’am’s are chewed up by decorum and dumped out the back door flat on their ass. Or, if one is so unlucky, they are buried beside the others who couldn’t cut the soldier’s life. The expenditure was paid in full with her own blood, sweat, and tears.

The slight, elderly woman to his left lifts a hand to silence the room before she speaks slowly, her eyes pensive, “She is a loyal servant of steel, Vargas, and the best records scribe the Brotherhood has known in over a hundred years. My scribe, are you aware of the burden and requirements of such a position? You are young and the Maxson’s require heirs. Do you accept these responsibilities?”

“I do.”

She spoke with a heavy heart. The eyes of a fellow Knight, a dark-haired woman sitting off to the left, began to shine. If she sobbed, it was lost in the rising whispers filling the room.

“And you vow to raise any and all children born to you under the tutelage of the Codex and laws of the Litany?”

“As steel is my witness.”

“Then may Paladin Joshua Maxson be wed to his Sister in steel, Scribe Jessica Thomas.”

Vargas stood, his eyes dark but obeying his Elder’s word, “Hail, Elder Maxson.”

The small gathering chanted in reply, “Hail, Elder.”

Jessica rushed from the room as the officers dismissed their soldiers and went to talk amongst themselves. The burning in her eyes began to cloud her vision as she followed black silken strands through the yellowed halls of the bunker.

“Tiffany!” 

Her call is unheaded, only serving to quicken the pace of the woman she pursues. 

“Tiff, please!”

The woman stops as she turns the corner leading down a secluded stairwell and causing Jessica to run into her and her breath to fleet. 

“You could have at least told me first, but no, I had to hear it from you in that room surrounded by everyone,” Tiffany spits, tears threatening.

“I didn’t have time. The next pacts were due and it is my duty to arrange them,” despite the truth, her words feel empty, “You know if there was a better solution I would have found it.”

The Knight closes her green eyes and sighs, “I know! I know. You do a damn good job, but it doesn’t make hearing it any easier, “ she turns away, “I just thought we would have more time together.”

“We had time, years, and we will have more. This is our way, what we do for the Brotherhood.”

With fewer than 150 individuals remaining after Owen’s expedition, it was important to maintain strength and reduce the chance that families of similar origins intertwine. The word she repeated to herself was inbred. Long-term madness and weakness from genetic-based illness.

That duty of minimizing ‘repeating genes’ fell to Jessica, maintaining familial records and proposing marriages between individuals. Pouring over records kept with dates as old as 2071. It mattered not who slept with who behind closed doors, though Jessica knew, as did others. Steel walls echoed and rumours spread, such was fact in when most of your chapter was kept in an echoing bunker 150 feet under the Mojave Wasteland. 

In the end, strength and loyalty were important, upholding the tenets, and moving forward. Preservation of technology, keeping it out of the hands of those who would abuse it and bring about the end of the world once more. The more born into this purpose, the better. 

The Knight sighs in defeat, her eyes moving everywhere about the stairwell as she swallows her anger and disappointment.

“Tiff, you know I love you, but we all have our roles to fulfill if we want to continue the Brotherhood’s cause,” Jessica says as she takes her lover’s hand in her own.

At first Tiffany resists, but in the end, as always, she pulls Jessica into her arms and smiles away her tears. There is never time for tears, not when there is work to be done. Ever the good soldiers, the loyal and obedient.

“You have a way with words, convincing grandma Maxson to let you wed her precious boy,” the knight smirks, “I thought for sure they would counter you with Jonathan. Second best is still a win.”

Jessica shushes her counterpart, “Don’t say things like that!”

“What? The truth? Jane Maxson is 91 years old and she’s only Elder because her son Jeremy kicked the bucket. Oh gosh, if you do have kids can you please stop the ‘J’ baby names?”

The scribe attempts to quiet her counterpart with a kiss, only to have the other woman lean away, “I’m not done blaspheming, sweetie, let me state my facts,” she smiled mischievously and Jessica knows she’s trapped.

“At least you saved the best for yourself, Joshua Maxson,” she hums approvingly, “A stud indeed. You’ll have to give me all the juicy details when we sneak off together later. Like if he’s proportionate.”

Jessica shudders as Tiffany runs her lips down her neck, her teeth gently scraping the delicate skin under her lobe, “Could be worse, Jonathan is nearly a mute. I wouldn’t get to hear him shout your name as you use that amazing mouth of yours…”

Any protest is lost as Jessica’s mind begins to blank, her hands fisting into the fabric of the Knights tunic as the other woman presses their bodies together. She desperately needs to feel Tiff’s lips against her own, the scratch of her cracked lips, weathered by the dry air of the bunker. The knight continues to deny her, instead slotting her thigh between Jessica’s legs and closing any remaining space between them. 

The scribe gasps her lover’s name as her insides liquify.

Tiffany’s voice is breathy, heavy, “Oh, honey, I know what you like. You like being pressed into a mattress. Will you make those cute noises as he presses into you like you do for me?” she grinds her thigh against her core, “Who are you going to think of?”

She brushes her nose against Jessica’s lips, hovering just out of reach, “I love how flushed you get, sweetie. Whose name will you say?” She tightens her hand around her hips.

“Tiff...”

Their lips finally meet it is but a whisper of what she wants, Tiff’s tongue brushing against the seam, teasing, and before she can delve in wholly all traces of her body, her heat, are gone. Jessica groans quietly as her eyes open.

“You fucking tease,” she groans.

“Punishment,” the Knight states with a coy smile, “for not telling me.”

A single quick kiss is pressed to her lips before Tiffany skirts up the stair and away from the corridor, her voice trailing, “See you tonight, lovely.”

Jessica smiles as the footsteps fade away and she is left alone with her thoughts. A small amount of pride can be felt over the resolution of the day’s events. Joshua Maxson, the younger, more handsome, and well-spoken son of Jeremy Maxson, heir to the title of Elder, is to be her husband. Though Jonathan was the larger and older of the two brothers, Joshua was the Paladin everyone adored and aspired to be, the one who seemed to set high hopes and promise a bright future from the Brotherhood.

Jessica’s time as a Thomas was coming to a close and her future as a Maxson was about to begin.


	2. A Maxson in Name

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, I greatly appreciate it and hope you are enjoying this story.

The steel hallways of the ancient bunker echo constantly. One grows accustomed to the din the longer they live in Lost Hills. Jessica learned long ago when the footsteps of her fellow soldiers were intent on her small office, even learning the steps of those who frequented her. As of late, she began to pick out the steps of Joshua and her heart skips a beat when those footsteps stop outside her door.

Joshua was everything Jessica had ever hoped for in a husband-to-be. A gracious man of compassion wrapped in a shell of tact and professionalism. To top it off he seemed to adore her. What free time they had they spent together in an attempt to get to know one another better. They were certainly not strangers. Everyone knew one another in the Lost Hills bunker they called home, the close quarters and tight working spaces made it near impossible to ignore someone. Some were more reclusive than others while others were well-known and loved.

Trust was something else altogether. There was an unspoken bond between all occupants but marriage meant no secrets, someone to always watch your back. Tomorrow Joshua and Jessica would be wed.

“Scribe Thomas,” his deep, commanding voice turns her knees to putty, “shouldn’t you be sleeping on the eve of your wedding?”

She doesn’t turn to him, “Isn’t it against regulations to visit your betrothed on the eve of your wedding, Paladin Maxson?”

A shiver runs down her spine when Joshua places his large hand on the small of her back, “You should know we dropped such barbaric traditions eons ago.”

Jessica can’t contain her giddiness as she turns to smile at him, “What about bad luck?”

“Lady luck favors me,” he confides with a brilliant smile before leaning in and pecking her lightly on the cheek.

Joshua is a tall man, well-built, with sapphire eyes that looks almost green in the harsh yellow lighting of the bunker. His brown hair is always messy and uncontrolled and the sun has kissed his face and left him with many freckles. He has the same nose as his brother, roman and strong, but unlike Jonathan’s, unbroken. When he smiles, he emanates a warmth few in their ranks possess.

There is no question that Joshua will excel in the role of Elder. Despite the growing divide between the Brotherhood factions in the West, Joshua is well-known and well-loved.

Jessica is happy to stand by his side even at the cost of her relationship with Tiffany.

“Come with me,” Joshua pulls the pen from her hand and lays it in the crease of the book she is writing in, “I have something to show you.”

She doesn’t protest when he takes her by the hand and guides her to the stairwell. Without question and with a lightheartedness that made her feel years younger than she was, she followed. This late at night the halls are nearly deserted. After ascending two flights of stairs they stop in front of the back door to the bunker, the only exit accessible this late into the evening. Only accessible with the council's approval.

“Joshua, we’re not allowed outside this late…”

The rule is waved away, Joshua enters a code and undoes the complicated system that keeps the outside world away from their bunker. The ancient door groans when it is opened and Joshua pulls her through the precipice into the moonlight dunes of the Mojave.

Over two decades had passed since she last saw the stars. Instantly she is lost in the sparkle of the night sky and fresh, cool air, the misplaced romance of it all.

“So lovely,” Jessica says as she takes in the diamond-studded sky.

A deep hum comes from his chest, the noise soothed the worry Jessica feels, “The wasteland has its moments of beauty.”

After a few more minutes of stargazing, she turned to her betrothed, “This is lovely but why did you take me out here?”

“I wish I could say it was because I wanted to give you a night to remember,” he began, “But alas, it’s nothing so romantic.”

From the shadows, a figure donned in power armor appears, causing Jessica to startle. The Lost Hills logo is emblazoned on their chest and Paladin rank on their gauntlet. She relaxed somewhat when they removed their helmet and the scarred, grizzled face of Joshua’s older brother comes into light.

“I’m here to give you a choice, Jessica. The Brotherhood is in turmoil and there is a contingency that would see the end of the Maxson line of leaders. With the exodus of Paladin Lyons, our supporters grew fewer in number. If you become pregnant, your life will be in danger and I cannot guarantee your safety.

“You have a choice, Jessica Thomas. You may leave now with my brother. Jonathan will take you to New Vegas where you may travel safely into NCR territory. We can give you a new life, a safer one. No one will know. Or, you can become a Maxson.”

In stunned silence, Jessica looked between the brothers. Jonathan stood stoney and silent as Joshua looked down at her with his customary warm smile. His shoulders were tense.

There was no denying the fear that crept into her heart as she looked into Joshua's eyes. The Bunker was her whole life, her family. Tiffany was here. She had faith that whatever was to happen was survivable and the Brotherhood would be stronger for it.

“I am a loyal servant of Steel,” she said after what felt like minutes had passed, “I do not run from our enemies as there is strength in numbers.”

Joshua let out a heavy sigh and took her hands in his, “You are sure?”

“Yes. I am sure.”

Joshua leaned forward and kissed her, briefly but passionately, before he pulled away.

"Thank you, Jessica."

She and Joshua returned to the bunker, while Jonathan returned to the wastes. After her suitor kissed her goodnight, Jessica went to prepare for bed, only restlessly toss and turn into the morning hours.

Wedding day in the Brotherhood of Steel was both joyous and melancholic, a day for new beginnings and the severance of old relationships. Jessica was not the only one to be wed, the ceremony was held en mass for a dozen couples. Long gone were the days of grand celebrations and excess livery. Like anything else, the occasion was purposeful. A few would sneak off into the quieter corners of the bunker later for a small revelry and perhaps Jessica and Joshua would join them.

The marriage ceremony was short, vows exchanged that bonded a man and woman. This was their way, their future.

Fearlessly and wholly, Jessica pledged to remain by Joshua’s side, and Joshua responded in kind. Once the vows were cemented with a kiss, she became a Maxson.

Endless congratulations, followed by trailing glances and haunting whispers. A world once silent and private suddenly seemed to be torn asunder and has left her asking herself if the Elder was insinuating something other then the burden of bearing children for a Maxson. The choice had ultimately been hers and the sacrifice was already made. Once sworn, an oath could not be broken. She was now a Maxson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I self-edited this chapter so hopefully, it is satisfactory.


	3. Silently, Deadly

One of the Paladins must have been the source of the illness that swept through their ranks. With unexpected swiftness, the virus decommissioned one soldier after another but unlike the other ailments the bunker had seen in the past, this one was relentless, targeting those in the prime of their health. Head Scribe Lars Taggart had issued a quarantine too late. So far they had lost four paladins, thirteen knights, and five scribes to the disease they called Wasteland Fever.

The first symptom was a rash, followed by a cough, then a fever that would burn through the body and cause blistering on the skin, before the victim would collapse and choke on their own breath. It was fluid in the lungs that took them in the end. Ironic, choking on water in the middle of the dry desert. Few survived and those who did were crippled.

The disease was common in the Mojave and many of the wasteland-born turned Brotherhood had built up a natural resistance to the disease. Because the Brotherhood has sequestered themselves in their underground bunker, they had no prior exposure and no immunity so it was left to the few outsider scribes amongst them to care for the sick.

Jessica didn’t know why she sat by Joshua’s side. She barely knew him but his large hand wrapped around her delicate fingers as if they belonged there. They had been married only a few weeks before the illness struck him. His breathing had become strained overnight and Jessica feared it would only worsen. She had done all she could and tried to convince herself that he would be one of the survivors, left weaker but alive.

Gaunt and sunken, his face was losing the fleshiness that has made him so handsome and set him apart. He hadn't eaten in days. Hadn't opened his eyes for hours. If only she could pull the illness from him and take in upon herself.

She looked around the overcrowded office-turned-medical room, watching a few scribes tend to the ill as a sickly chorus of coughs and wheezes filled the air. She could not see him, but she knew Death was watching and waiting to guide their next victim to whatever was beyond this life.

Joshua took a deep wheezing breath which sent him into a gargled coughing fit that made her jump. His sapphire eyes opened wide and he stared at the dimly lit ceiling as each breath suddenly became harder and harder to take. Already his pale face was turning purple. Paralysed by fear, Jessica stepped back and put her trembling hands over her mouth. Another scribe rushed over and began issuing orders that fell on her deaf ears. Not him. Not like this.

“Jessica! The ventilator!” he demanded.

Mindlessly, Jessica ran for the machine, wheel rattling as she pulled it to Joshua’s bedside before the other scribe hooked the mask onto Joshua’s face. The pneumatic pumps began forcing purified air into the Paladin’s lungs but his desperation did not cease, his face only darkened. Both scribes were helpless as they watched the last breath of the man leave him and his body finally stilled and Death removed the latest victim from this world. 

Another soldier lost and the Brotherhood was that much weaker. 

She felt numb as she wrote down the information on his record that she would later transcribe into the codex: Joshua Elliott Maxson, Paladin, death by illness (Wasteland Fever), July 16th, 2264, 1824 hours. Jessica pulled the sheet covering his body over his face, waved her hand at the scribes who had come to take Joshua’s body. She wants to handle the preparation for cremation, the last duty as his wife despite how short their marriage was.

Not a single tear was shed, not while she bathed his corpse, not as she anointed his body in oils or wrapped him in the ceremonial cloak of the fallen. Not as she exited the bunker and his body entered the pyre alongside his fellow fallen Brothers and Sisters and the fire consumed them all. Someone recited the words of the fallen. The others filed back inside and she we left standing beside Elder Jane Maxson in silent remembrance.

“I’ve lost many children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, Jessica. I never thought I would lose him,” the elderly woman spoke tiredly.

Jessica was silent for a moment as the tears began to wash away the ash and dust that had settled on her cheeks, “I tried to save him. I tried…”

She sobbed and the Elderly woman next to her placed a frail hand on her shoulder, “I know, my child, I know. It is possible the time of the Maxson Elders has come to an end. I am old, my days numbered.”

Jessica cries softly before she wiped the tears from her cheeks, taking a few deep, shuddering breaths until she is calm, “What about Jonathan?”

The woman shook her head, “The council would not allow it. Joshua was my successor but Jonathan was not his. A shadow compared to his brother. There are those that have lost faith in the Maxson line, those that would choose another to lead us.”

“The Maxson’s have always lead us…” Jessica began, but the Elder shook her head once more.

“There is a change coming, my dear, like a shift in the winds. Joshua knew this, he was ready, had allies and purpose. Jonathan...my sweet Jonathan is a man filled with fear and the loss of his brother…” she shook her head again, “He needs someone he can trust.”

They both stood in silence and watched the embers of the pyre die down. The sun had set and the guard called for both to return to the back gate could be sealed once more.

“Help an old woman walk,” the Elder asked and Jessica took her arm as they crossed the barren earth together.

A few yards from the door Jane stumbled and Jessica caught her before she fell, her voice tired when she spoke, “Give me a moment to rest…”

Jane closed her eyes and for a moment Jessica feared she may be giving up, but instead she spoke quietly, “I have a secret for you, my dear, that the Maxson's have long harboured. Since the Great War and Roger Maxson himself, a few of us have been gifted with the Sight."

Jessica frowned. The sight was a common rumor in the wasteland, people born with the ability to predict the future. They were often looked down upon.

The Elder continued, "My mother was the last until Jonathan's birth but his visions are clouded, unclear. Together they deciphered his dreams. Jonathan needs a good and loyal woman by his side, as Joshua did. He needs someone who will _believe_ him.”

Jessica watched the woman steady herself once more before she took Jessica’s arm once more, “Do you wish to remain a Maxson, Jessica?”

Jessica decided to save the old woman her words, “I’ll marry Jonathan. For the Brotherhood.For Joshua.”

Jane Maxson smiled as they entered the bunker and the door was closed behind them.


	4. Carry On

Jessica was given three days to mourn before she was married to her former brother in law. Stoic as always, Jonathan betrayed no emotion at the news of his only brother’s death. Where Joshua has radiated emotion, his brother seemed almost void of it. Unnerved was too simple a word to describe how she felt.

Between her former husband being wrenched from her grasp by disease and the coming wedding, Jessica slipped into old habits. Tiffany wrapped the blanket around her and held her as she sobbed. As she cursed the promises she made and failed to fight her tears and Tiffany’s comforts.

They were wed in secret beneath a starlight night the day after Jonathan had returned from his latest field mission. The ashes of the fallen feet away filled in as their guests. Tiffany stood witness, as did Knight Commander Erik Krieg, Jonathan’s close friend and second. Elder Maxson officiated while Jessica and Jonathan spoke their vows. 

Jonathan cleared his throat, dust from the road still covering his face. A new gash marked his face, the scab black from improper care but healing well otherwise. His nose has been broken and he certainly was not as handsome as Jessica remembered. Where Joshua had been younger, more vibrant, and softer of face, Jonathan was all edges, with a strong jaw. He had a standard cut of dark hair and clean-shaven face, and dark blue eyes under a heavy brow. He did not smile. How could he when his brother's ashes watched over their union.  


His quiet but raspy voice was firm yet calm as he spoke,  “I, Jonathan Maxson, swear unto thine Elder that I will serve the Brotherhood by your side, that together we will better ourselves and our order. I promise to remain faithful to you, my wife, Jessica, now until the day of my death, to serve as your Paladin and partner.”

“I, Jessica Thomas, swear unto thine Elder that I will serve the Brotherhood by your side, that together we will better ourselves and our order. I promise to remain faithful to you, my husband, Jonathan, now until the day of my death, to serve as your Scribe and partner,” Jessica replied in turn.

“By Steel, we are bound and duty sworn to serve together eternal,” they spoke in unison, “Together we are not blinded by those who are not bound by Steel. Together we pledge our lives to the Brotherhood.” 

The Elder took their hands and folded them together, “May you find strength and wisdom in each other as that find in your Elder, and may the bond you have forged tonight never shatter. Walk as one, Jonathan and Jessica Maxson. Steel preserve you both.”

Whereas Joshua had bent in and kissed Jessica with a surprising amount of passion Jonathan merely pecked her on the cheek, so quickly she thought she had imagined it. With that small kiss, the wedding was over. They silently made their way into the bunker.  


Jonathan turned to Jessica only once the other’s had left for their quarters, “Would you like to gather your things tonight?”

Jessica nodded, knowing they were already packed from her brief marriage to Joshua. Their walk was silent aside from the click of heeled boots against the steel floor, Jessica lost in a cloud of anxiety and fortitude. She reminded herself that this was what was best for the future, for the Maxson line, the Brotherhood of Steel. Perseverance and tradition. 

Jonathan followed her to her bunk in the barracks, offering to carry as much as his broad shoulders could. Few possessions in hands, she followed him after a fleeting and silent goodbye to the bed she had spent so many nights in, wrapped in Tiffany’s arms. As a Paladin and a Maxson, Jonathan was privileged to his own private quarters, which they would now share and eventually raise their children in.

Children. If they were so lucky. If she was to be so lucky. Her own mother had died giving birth to her and her father had begged a passing Brotherhood patrol to save her as he lay dying. Jonathan’s parents both died in service to the Brotherhood, as did his aunts and uncles and cousins. Death seemed to thrive in this bunker.

Her now husband opened the door to his quarters and she was immediately hit with staleness and earth. The room was dark, quiet, residing at the end of the long hallway that housed the officer's barracks. Jonathan walked in, pushing aside papers and parts on a short cabinet before moving to the wardrobe and opening it. There was nothing inside.

“You may put your things here,” he stated, his voice low and disconnected. He placed the box he was carrying down on the cabinet before he stood and watched her.

A sense of unease filled her as she went about unpacking her belongings; her clothing, shoes, trinkets, and books. Seeing as this was their wedding night, Jessica knew certain formalities were typically followed. Consummation of marriage. Duties she was not ready to fulfill. She knew little of the man she was now bonded to and the thought of them coming together only heightened her anxiety.

When she turned to him after putting away her she closed her eyes and brings her hands to her collar, pulling off her scribe tunic slowly. A shuffle of movement is heard before there is a large, warm hand over both of hers.

“No,” is all Jonathan than says in his low, haunting tone. He can’t help it, his throat was damaged years ago, his once gravelly voice now a thick whisper. 

Jessica opened her eyes and found him watching, an almost fearful look in his dark blue eyes. His grip loosens and the large man turned away in silence.She breathed a sigh of relief.  


For the first time, she notes a bedroll and pillow on the floor, tucked up against the wall. Next to the pillow, a gun, a lantern, a canteen. 

“I don’t sleep in the bed,” he explained, “It is yours.”

“Why?” Jessica asked unthinking.

“I prefer the floor.” Satisfied with his answer, Jonathan moves to the blanket he calls a bed, “Goodnight, Jessica.”

“Goodnight, Jonathan,” she replied as he turned into the wall, no blanket to cover him and still dressed in his uniform.  


She changed into her sleeping pants and tunic before crawling into the large, empty bed. Her mind raced with a thousand thoughts as her bed remained empty. Most regard the man laying a few feet away.

Jonathan is a stark contrast to his younger brother. Cold, distant, and clearly a shattered man beneath his steely exterior. Will he ever trust her? Warm to her company? Where the rumors of him and Erik true? She stared at the shadows cast by his lantern, watching as they dance upon the ceiling and eventually drifted off to sleep.

There was a growl that tore through the darkened room and Jessica woke to with a start in the dark room. For a moment she forgets where she is until the strangled yell came again.

“No, let him go!”

Jonathan, the panicked voice is Jonathan’s. The lantern has gone out and the room is pitch black. 

“Jonathan!?” she called alarmingly to her husband.

There is the sound of thrashing, of flesh against hard the ground. Someone is in the room and they are attacking her husband. Jessica fell out of the bed and crawled quickly on her hands and knees, feeling her way through the darkness until she is by his side. Only she feelt no one else, only Jonathan's warm body. She felt his movements, his thrashing and gently placed her hand on his arm and shook him.

“Jonathan?” she called to him again.

In a flurry of movement and she was thrown back against the steel frame of the bed. Hands like a vice close around her neck and she cannot breathe, silenced by pain and shock. 

"Stay away!" he growled.

She clawed against the strong arms of her attacker, raked her nails against flesh as her head began to swim. She could not scream or cry out. She felt tears begin to well and fall from her eyes before there was a shallow gasp. The hands are gone.

“Oh no...” Jonathan rasped, “Jessica…”

She pushed herself away, scurrying until she felt the steel of the far wall pressed against her back, arms curled protectively around herself. 

“I’m sorry,” she hears him say.

A moment later there was light, Jonathan, only Jonathan, stood near the foot of his bed his head hanging low. There was no attacker. When he took a step towards her, Jessica recoiled, still in a state of panic at the memory of his hands crushing her throat.

He stepped closer again, hands wrung with nerves, “I… I have dreams. I’ve never been around another when they happen.”

The bed creaked as Jonathan sat on its foot. His eyes were cast down. Jessica gingerly massaged her neck. Her skin would bruise. She kept her eyes on Jonathan when he spoke.  


“I would never hurt you, Jessica. Not purposefully,” his voice is strained, “This is too much. Joshua. The weight, they bring on the dreams. I never want to hurt you.”

She sees the sorrow on his face, the agony of his actions. Jessica believes him.

“I believe they are… premonitions,” he spoke softly, “A curse few Maxson’s were born with. My great grandmother was the last. Many do not believe our dreams are real.”

What Jane spoke of a fortnight ago rang once more,  _ he needs someone to believe him.  _   


Pushing aside her fear, Jessica stood on shaking legs and walked over to her husband, took one large hand in both of hers, “I believe you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: What are wedding vows?
> 
> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there, thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of this fic.
> 
> I am a bit rusty on lore so any corrections are appreciated.


End file.
